


Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart

by SG1SamFan (LemonScience33)



Category: Farscape
Genre: Attachment, Emptiness, F/M, Friendship/Love, Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:06:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonScience33/pseuds/SG1SamFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sweep me through your many-chambered heart/if you like, or leave me here/flushed amid the sap-ooze and blossom."</p><p>Chiana steals to live, steals to enjoy, steals moments.</p><p>Chiana POV. A ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by ["Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart"](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/8281) by Diane Ackerman. 



> Disclaimer: I don't own Farscape or its characters, nor do I own Diane Ackerman's poem. I make no profit from this little ficlet.
> 
> This ficlet is AU after 1.22 "Family Ties" and includes this scene: <http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fePRKl-RNsE>

_Sweep me through your many-chambered heart  
if you like, or leave me here, flushed  
amid the sap-ooze and blossom: one more dish  
in the banquet called April, or think me hard-  
won all your days full of women. Weeks  
later, till I felt your arms around  
me like a shackle, heard all the sundown  
wizardries the fired body speaks.  
_

-

Down the hall, fingers brushing wall, tilt my head to catch all the glimpses before the others see them. Show my neck, false submission and I could kill them without blinking.

But I won't. No, no. Family. (Sort of. Not like Nerri.) Family like you don't trust much but you trust a little. Better than nothing.

Him. Trust him more than the others, somehow: blue eyes, dark hair, skin so pink and flushed like a pretty flower, touch him – soft, too soft, could kill him but I never would. Kisses me so softly – I lean in again and he pulls back, tells me with his body "not now."

He comes back alive.

Yearning. I show my neck, submissive, seductive. I could kill him without blinking but I can't lure him to where I want him.

Her or me – but why choose? Why not fluidity, sweeping through Moya's chambers, backs pressed to walls and lips pressed to lips and necks exposed.

I steal to live, steal to enjoy, steal moments (in case I show my neck and someone cuts it before I can blink).

He comes to me, finally.

He comes, and I come. Alive.

It's gotta be enough. Gotta be.

Won't be.

-

 _Tell me why, if it was no more than this,  
the unmuddled tumble, the renegade kiss,  
today, rapt in a still life and unaware,  
my paintbrush dropped like an amber hawk;  
thinking I'd heard your footfall on the stair,  
I listened, heartwise, for the knock.  
_  
~Diane Ackerman, "Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart"

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a paper on this poem and couldn't help thinking that the lines, "Sweep me through your many-chambered heart,/if you like, or leave me here, flushed amid the sap-ooze and blossom" just sounded so Chiana - putting up a front, trying not to get attached, and then, ultimately, falling anyway.


End file.
